Cookies for Equality
by Naomi S. Goldson
Summary: George goes on a little trip to the kitchens one night and finds Hermione there, fighting once more for house elf rights, though not in her usual preaching manner. Written for the August Twin Exchange Challenge.


**Prompt**:

Cookies

**Pairings**:

Hermione/George

**Quotes**:

"Are you even listening?"

~.~.~.~.~

Hermione had a problem.

That was, at least, George's first thought upon entering the Hogwarts kitchen well past curfew on a Wednesday night and found her standing before one of the house elves' little stoves, trying to do their job for them. The poor little creature stood by with a pout on its wrinkled old face, seeming quite put out by the bushy haired cook. Apparently it noticed George's entrance and, having nothing else to do, ran over to him.

"Can I be helping you, sir?" he asked, his voice squeaky and high pitched.

Upon hearing this, Hermione seemed to realize that she was no longer alone with the elves and pivoted on her heel. She saw George and let out a surprised squawk, taking a step and slipping on something she had spilled before tumbling to the floor. George stifled a laugh at her predicament, and then, sidestepping the elf, walked over to help. "Decided to help the house elves did you?" he said as he pulled her to her feet. Her cheeks flushed a bit, but she faced him and set her face in a determined scowl.

"Yes, I am helping them. They shouldn't have to work so hard, the poor things don't get paid or anything," she said.

"That is true," George said, "but I believe they like it."

"But I'm sure they don't!" Hermione protested angrily. "No one could enjoy working day and night, never able to escape and being forced to do what they're told. They punish themselves in the most horrific ways when they make a mistake – even a tiny one! They don't have vacations and I'm sure there's little time to sleep. Imagine never getting a break. It would be terrible."

As she spoke, George nodded and tried to look interested, but was quickly distracted by a wayward curl, which was bouncing around her face and bumping her nose as she spoke. His eyes strayed from it to look at the mass of curls and frizz that she called her hair, which was waving wildly about. It seemed to crackle with electricity as she spoke, making her seem more animated and exciting. It was, by far, the most interesting hair he had ever seen and he found himself captivated by it. Suddenly, he was pulled out of his thoughts by Hermione whacking his arm with a spatula.

"Ouch!" he yelped, clutching his forearm in surprise.

"Are you even listening?" Hermione asked, looking extremely angry with his obvious lack of attention.

"Er, somewhat," George said. Hermione frowned at him disbelievingly, so, smiling sheepishly, he amended, "Not really. Sorry, Granger."

"What are you doing down here anyways?" Hermione asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "It's past curfew –"

"Then a better question would be to ask what are _you_ doing down here, little miss prefect?" George interrupted teasingly.

"I'm showing the elves that humans could do this job as well as they do," Hermione replied boldly, but her cheeks were tinted pink with embarrassment. "They're under the impression that no one could do this as well as they do."

"Your method for demonstrating to them how incorrect they are is a strange one," George said. "Burning your proof? Very original, Granger. Ten points for that."

"Burning? What – oh no!" Hermione let out a cry as she ran back to the stove, hurriedly pulling the tray out of the oven and pulling her wand out of her pocket, throwing several charms at it and waving away the black smoke. Once she had saved whatever it was to the best of her ability (George was unable to figure out what it was – it looked like a few lumps of coal to him), she sat against the wall with her head in her hands. "I'm such a failure."

George frowned, not expecting her to be so downcast by a simple baking mistake. He sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder and hugging her in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "You're not a failure, Granger. It's only one little cooking mishap, you know."

Hermione let out a harsh laugh, but it didn't sound quite right – it was forced and empty, not a real laugh in any sense of the word. "Mishap? That's more than just a little mishap and you know it, George Weasley," she said, taking a deep breath. "Besides, that wasn't all I was referring to."

George frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I never seem to get things right," she replied. "I always try, but nothing ever works. I try to be a good student, but people just call me a know-it-all. I try to be a good prefect, but everyone calls me bossy and annoying. I try to fight for rights, and people think I'm weird and going against 'the way of things.' I just get tired of it, you know? I want to succeed for once."

There was a moment of silence, during which Hermione felt worried that she had said too much and had frightened George – like she had so many others – with her little tirade. George, on the other hand, felt shocked that Hermione, the brave, no-nonsense, best friend of his little brother, was so insecure. He finally spoke after a couple minutes, though it seemed like hours, saying, "That isn't true, Granger. You're smart, a great leader, and you fight for equality. None of those things amount to failure. People are stupid, and you've just got to accept that or you'll never be happy. Go along your merry way, knowing people will be moronic as usual, and do what you want."

Hermione gazed up at George, an odd, contemplative look gracing her features. After a moment or two, she smiled. "Thanks, George," she said, standing up and returning to her small catastrophe. She took her spatula once more and began to scrape the coal off the tray and on to a plate with a determined look on her face. George got up as well, moving to look at the mess.

"What were you trying to make?" he asked, trying to sound as innocently as he could.

"Chocolate chip cookies," she said, "but they didn't turn out like I had imagined they would." She put the spatula down, having gotten as much off as she could. "Want one?" she asked feebly.

"When have you known a Weasley to pass up food of any sort?" George asked, laughing and taking one of them. "I'll be going then. Good night, Hermione."

"Goodnight, George," Hermione returned, frowning slightly once more. She could've sworn she saw him whisking his wand back into his pocket as he left the kitchens, but he hadn't had his want out in the first place. She decided it must've been her mind playing tricks on her and turned back to clean up the stove, not wanting to leave it a mess for the poor elves. To her surprise, she found it spotless. On top of that, her formerly blackened cookies were now perfectly golden brown, steaming slightly and looking gooey and delicious. She cast a confused glance around, but the elves seemed to have noticed nothing about the change. Hermione picked up the plate and left the kitchen, walking upstairs with a small smile.

**A/N: So… my first time really writing a one-shot and (obviously) my first time the Twin Exchange monthly challenge. Feedback and advice and the likes would be very much appreciated!**

**-Naomi**


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